GIFT  OF 


R1ST 

:    By  LJtLIA] 


f 


cerning  the  real  writing  game. 
He  is  one  who  knows  and  does. 
April  22— Mrs.  Lillian  Amber 
Hunt,  teacher,  poet  and  dramatic 
critic,  will  give  another  of  her 
interesting  addresses.  Mrs.  Hunt 
recently  published  a  book  of 
poems  entitled  "Arista,"  and  is 
now  teaching  short-story  writing 
at  506  \Yestern  Mutual  Life 
BuiMing  under  the  Southwest 
School  of  Industrial  Arts. 


ARISTA 

and  Other  Po ems 

BY 
LILLIAN  AMBER  HUNT 


J.    F.    ROWNY   PRESS 

Los  Angeles 
1921    * 


ffi 


m 

fi 


Copyright,  1921 
LILLIAN  AMBER  HUNT 

Los  Ageles,  Cal. 


To  My  Mother 


469865 


ARISTA 

AR  up  in  Heaven  shone  a  golden  star. 

There,  with  flaming  lamp  in  hand, 
Arista  stood,  and,  gazing  down, 

She  saw  the  stars  a  band 
That  whirled  along  their  shining  path 

For  numbers  as  the  sand. 


Six  lamps  there  were,  besides  the  lamp 

Arista's  Lamp  of  Love. 
Five  lamps  there  were,  all  trimmed  and  bright, 

Burning  starry  flames  above, 
By  five  young  maidens,  each  as  fair 

And  gentle  as  a  dove. 

The  names  of  these  five  burning  lamps 
Were  Truth   (which  all  did  prize), 

While  Devotion  with  Humility 
And  Power  with  Beauty  vies. 

The  other  lamp,  the  lamp  unlit, 
Was  the  Lamp  of  Sacrifice. 

So  long  had  she  tended  the  Lamp  of  Love, 

So  long  kept  up  its  flame, 
She  had  become  a  part  of  Love — 

Of  its  heart  of  hearts  she  came, 
And  longed  to  give  all  of  herself 

To  express  Love's  very  name. 


[5] 


[ARISTA   and   other  Poems} 

One  cold,  dark  star  that  feebly  shone 
Seemed  of  so  little  worth, 

Her  six  companion  maidens  spoke 
Of  it  in  jest  and  mirth. 

But  Arista,  with  her  Lamp  of  Love, 
Did  care  for  this  cold  Earth. 

And  as  she  looked  down  to  the  Earth 
Her  heart  within  did  burn 

To  help  this  cold,  unlighted  shell ; 
For  this  her  heart  did  yearn, 

That  of  its  race  could  one  be  found, 
One  that  of  her  could  learn. 

She  saw  a  poet  on  the  Earth 
Whose  songs  were  called  sublime. 

He  had  the  poet's  gift  of  song, 
The  faculty  divine; 

But  the  poet's  vision  was  denied, 
His  message  was  but  rhyme. 

"He  has  from  the  vision  turned  aside/ 
She  said,  her  heart  aflame, 

"And  needs  at  once  the  help  of  heaven 
To  show  the  way  I  came. 

He  thinks  not  of  the  song  he  sings, 
He  thinks  of  wealth  and  fame." 

Said  the  Lord  Watcher  of  the  Skies : 
"Were  he  the  vision  given, 

No  earthly  goal  of  wealth  or  fame 
Could  blind  that  inner  vision. 

No  power  could  make  the  poet  tme 
E'er  lose  his  dream  of  Heaven. 


[6] 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems} 


The  Lamp  of  Wisdom  is  the  source, 

The  light  of  inspiration, 
To  the  soul  that's  kindled  by  that  spark 

Is  the  poet's  vision  given. 
He  has  no  need  for  help  on  Earth, 

Nor  would  he  look  to  Heaven." 

"O  grant  me,  Lord,  the  Lamp  of  Love, 

O  Watcher  of  the  Skies, 
That  I  may  light  the  way  on  Earth 

To  him  whose  thoughts  do  rise." 
But  the  Lord  did  gently  shake  his  head — 

"Not  Love,  but  Sacrifice." 

Said  the  Lord  Watcher  of  the  Skies, 
Who  does  the  Lamp  of  Wisdom  tend, 

"Know  ye  that  he,  the  Lord  of  Life, 
Has  no  beginning  and  no  end. 

And  never  does  he  break  his  laws 
And  never  does  he  bend. 

Remember  that  the  Soul 

Which  goes  back  to  Earth's  grime, 
Must  put  itself  in  earthly  guise 

And  back  to  Heaven  cHmb. 
Be  subject  to  Earth's  fettering  laws — 

The  laws  of  Space  and  Time." 


Then  the  Lord  Watcher  of  the  Skies 
Who  does  the  Lamp  of  Wisdom  tend, 

Did  day  by  day  give  her  his  help, 
Did  her  of  his  wisdom  send. 

And  thus  inspired  she  writes  her  songs 
The  songs  by  Wisdom  penned. 


[7] 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems] 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  WIND 

SPIRIT  of  the  Wind,  strong  and  free. 
Spirit  of  the  Wind,  mad  and  free. 

Spirit    of  the  Wind,  wild  and   free. 
Spirit  of  the  Wind,  sad  and  free. 

Spirit  of  the  Wind,  mild  and  free. 
Spirit  of  the  Wind,  glad  and  free. 

Give  me  of  thy  Spirit,  Wind, 
As  round  the  world  ye  blow; 
Give  me  of  thy  power  to  move 
Forever  to  and  fro,  to  and  fro. 
Let  me  break  these  bonds, 
These  chains  that  keep  me  tied ; 
Whose  iron  links  are  wrought 
By  Duty,  Fear  and  Pride. 
Give  me  of  thy  Spirit,  Wind, 
Give  me  of  thy  power. 

Give  me  of  thy  Spirit,  Wind ; 
Give  me  of  thy  strength  and  will ; 
These  shackles  let  me  break; 
These  shackles :     Time  and  Place. 
Let  me  o'er  creation  rove, 
To  the  uttermost  bounds  of  space. 
Let  me  follow  the  comet's  path, 
Let  me  take  a  place  with  the  stars; 
Let  me  look  back  on  Earth, 
And  know  that  I  am  free, 
Forever  free  like  thee, 
Forever  free  like  thee. 


[8] 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems] 

Take  me  with  thee,  O  Spirit  of  the  Wind. 
Take  me  with  thee  on  the  tempest's  back, 
Take  me  with  thee  on  the  lightning's  track, 
Take  me  with  thee  where  storm  clouds  rack, 
And  ruin  is  in  thy  wake. 
The  breath  of  the  hurricane  let  me  breathe, 
Let  the  whirlwind  by  my  spiral  sheathe, 
As  I  stir  the  sea  to  the  depths  beneath, 
Where  thundering  waters  break. 

There  with  thy  fearful  strength  and  power, 

In  cold  and  fog  and  mist  and  shower, 

I  battle  with  crags  and  cliffs  that  tower 

O'er  the  deeps  the  waters  make. 

There  with  the  thundering,  thundering  waves, 

There  with  the  pounding,  pounding  waves, 

There  with  the  booming,  booming  waves, 

There  with  the  waves  I'll  be 

Strong  and  free,  like  thee, 

Strong  and  free,  like  thee. 

Mad  and  free,  like  thee, 

Mad  and  free,  like  thee. 

There  let  me  be,  O  Spirit  of  the  Wind, 

There  let  me  be, 

Strong  and  free  like  thee, 

Strong  and  free, 

Mad  and  free  like  thee, 

Mad  and  free. 

Take  me  with  the,  O  Spirit  of  the  \Vind, 

Take  me  with  thee,  and  let  me  be 

Wild  and  free,  like  thee, 

Wild  and  free. 

Take  me  to  the  wild  mountain  height, 

Take  me  where  foot  of  man  has  never  been, 

Take  me  where  lie  the  un warmed  snows 

That  coldly  touch  on  Heaven's  rim. 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems] 

There  let  me  be  wild  and  free, 

Wild  and  free  like  thee. 

Wild  and  free, 

Wild  and  free. 

There  let  me  whirl  and  rage  like  thee, 

There  let  me  shriek  and  groan  like  thee, 

Wild  and  free,  like  thee, 

Wild  and  free. 

And  as  I  gather  strength  and  rage, 

Let  me  the  furious  battle  wage, 

That  the  earth  has  fought  from  age  to  age, 

Till  the  mountains  tremble  in  their  place. 

Until  with  scream  and  crash  and  roar 

Down  their  granite  sides  I  make  a  floor, 

A  path  for  the  avalanche. 

And  as  my  fearful  path  I  trace, 

The  path  of  the  avalanche, 

There  let  me  scream  and  roar  and  crash, 

There  let  me  tear  and  rend  and  gash, 

Over  all  let  the  lightnings  flash, 

As  on  that  fearful  path  I  dash, 

The  path  of  the  avalanche. 

And  as  I  go  with  crash  and  roar, 

And  ice  and  snow  and  stones  I  pour 

On  the  plain  below  as  sand  on  the  shore, 

Wild  will  I  scream, 

Scream  o'er  and  o'er, 

In  my  rage  I'll  scream 

As  down  I  roar, 

In  the  path  of  the  avalanche. 

Wild  and  free,  like  thee, 

Wild  and  free, 

Wild  and  free. 


[10] 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems] 

Then  when  my  rage  is  filled, 

Then  I  can  rest, 

In  a  lowland  valley, 

I  can  rest. 

In  a  lowland  valley, 

I  can  rest. 

There  let  me  be,  O  Spirit  of  the  Wind, 

There  let  me  be, 

Sad  and  free  like  thee, 

Sad  and   free, 

Sad  and  free. 

There  let  me  be,  O  Spirit  of  the  Wind, 

Mild  and  free  like  thee. 

Mild  and  free, 

Mild  and  free. 

Make  me  a  zephyr,  that  I  may  play 

With  the  wildflowers  and  honeybees  there  all  day. 

Make  me  to  whisper  low  and  sweet, 

Make  me  to  murmur  in  the  brooklet's  song, 

Make  me  to  croon  in  the  mother's  song, 

Make  me  to  sigh  in  the  evening  breeze, 

Make  me  to  whisper  in  the  murmuring  trees, 

Make  me  to     wander  where  darkness  flees 

From  the  first  white  shafts  of  dawn. 

And  there  in  the  sunshine  I  will  be 

Light  as  the  sunshine,  light  and  free. 

There  with  the  birds  all  day  I'll  soar, 

There  will  I  whisper  o'er  and  o'er, 

The  song  I  have  learned  of  thee. 

The  song  I  have  learned  of  thee. 

Glad  and  free  like  thee, 

Glad  and  free  like  thee. 

Glad  and  free, 

Glad  and  free. 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems'] 


THE  FAIRY  DANCE 


lightly,  tripping  lightly, 
Tripping  o'er  the  green. 
In  the  moonlight  shining  brightly, 
Fairy  forms  are  seen. 

Now  they  hover  o'er  the  flowers 

Like  bees  without  a  sting; 
Xow  they  seek  the  cool  leaf  bowers, 

Now  they've  taken  wing. 

Flying  softly,  flying  softly, 

Back  they  come  again. 
P>reathe  thou  softly,  oh,  so  softly, 

Or  they'll  fly  again. 

Tripping  lightly,  tripping  lightly, 
Dance  the  fairies  on  the  green. 

In  the  moonlight  shining  brightly, 
To  mortal  eyes  unseen. 


[Presented    by   the    pupils    of    Maude    B.    Fischer   at   the 
Ebell  Club  House,  May  16,  1921.] 

[12] 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems'] 


IN  A  GREEN  OLD-FASHIONED 
GARDEN 

IN   a  green  old-fashioned  garden 
By  a  high  hedge  walled  about 
With  trim,  well-kept  borders 
And  prim,  straight  walks 
Love  and  I  one  day  did  meet. 
And  there  Love  did  come  to  me 
With  swift-flying,  sandaled  feet 
And  took  my  hand  and  led  me 
To  the  fountain  cool  and  sweet ; 
And  there  he  sat  beside  me 
On  the  high-backed  garden  seat. 
And  as  he  bent  to  kiss  me, 
To  claim  me  for  his  own, 
Stern  Duty  came  between  us — 
Placed  her  cold,  white  fingers  on  me 
And  there  bade  Love  begone. 

Long  years  I  toiled  for  Duty, 
Toiled  hard  for  daily  bread, 
For  a  few  old  shabby  garments, 
And  a  roof  above  my  head ; 
And  though  I  tried  to  love  her 
She  was  always  cold  and  dread. 
Though  I  tired  hard  to  please  her, 
Wore  her  black  tight-fitting  gown, 
When  she  no  more  could  use  me 
She  left  me  all  alone, 
Alone  with  no  companion 
But  cold  Ingratitude. 


[13] 


ARISTA    and    other    Poems] 

I  came  back  to  the  garden, 
To  the  fountain  cool  and  sweet, 
And  again  Love  stood  beside  me 
By  the  high-backed  garden  seat, 
And  as  he  bent  to  kiss  me, 
To  claim  me  as  his  own, 
Ambition .  whispered  in  my  ear 
And  bade  Love  to  be  gone. 

And  then  Ambition  led  me 

To  the  heights  where  Fame  did  dwell. 

There  Fame  did  come  to  me 

In  her  trailing  satin  gown 

With  a  cloak  of  velvet,  silk  and  fur, 

On  her  head  a  diadem. 

There  Fame  did  say  to  me 

As  she  laid  her  hand  on  mine, 

"Look  not  on  Love,  but  follow  me." 

I  followed  Fame,  as  a  vvill-of-the-wisp, 

And  left  Love  weeping  there. 

Years  passed  on  and  I  had  Fame 

And  a  heart  as  cold  as  a  stone. 

I  lived  alone  for  the  praise  of  men, 

But  my  heart  did  live  alone. 

And  as  I  looked  at  my  diadem 

And  the  trailing  costly  dress, 

I  thought  this  is  all — all  I  have  on  earth- 

My  soul  I  have  sold  for  this. 

Then  Fame  did  leave  me  to  weep  alone. 
The  fickle  adoration  given  by  the  crowd 
Went  to  the  next  who  gave  amusement 
To  their  fickle,  jaded  sense. 


[141 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems} 

I  had  served  Ambition's  schemes 
And  Fame  and  I  did  part. 
And  I  was  left  alone,  forlorn, 
Without  a  friend  on  earth. 

In  the  green  old-fashioned  garden 

I  walked  with  weary  feet 

And  wandered  toward  the  fountain 

Where  was  the  garden-seat. 

Again  Love  did  come  to  me 

With  his  strong  protecting  arms 

I  laid  my  head  on  his  shoulder 

And  sighed  to  be  at  rest. 

When  Wealth  came  to  our  trysting-place 

And  Love  in  his  homely  dress 

Could  only  stammer  as  Wealth's  cold  eye 

Did  break  Love's  heart  and  he  did  fly. 

Wealth  told  of  all— 

All  he  could  do  for  me, 

Of  the  gems  and  garments  that  he  could  buy 

Of  social  prestige,  position  high, 

Of  a  life  all  free  from  fear  of  want, 

With  a  future  assured  of  ease, 

When  I  demurred  and  spoke  of  Love, 

Wealth  said,  "Have  you  not  thought 

What  it  means  to  give  to  your  children  dear 

The  things  that  Wealth  has  brought? 

Have  you  the  right  to  keep  from  them 

A  future  all  warm  and  bright  ? 

Would  you  think  that  Love  can  assure  you  these 

When  he  knows  not  where  he  has  the  right 

Even  to  earn  his  daily  bread?" 

Then  with  Wealth  I  went  mv  way. 


[15] 


r  A  R  I  s  T  A    and    other    Poems] 

The  costly  furs  protecting  me 

From  sting  of  winter's  cold ; 

My  shimmering  silken   garments 

Trailing  over  marble  floors ; 

The  dainty  shoes  upon  my  feet ; 

My  filmy  laces,  rare ; 

The  gems  that  sparkled  on  my  hands, 

Around  my  neck  and  in  my  hair, 

All  added  to  my  beauty 

And  told  to  every  eye 

That  Wealth  had  given  to  me 

All — all  that  Wealth  could  buy. 

But  the  jewels  sparkling  on  my  brow 

Was  my  badge  of  servitude, 

Beneath   my   silken   garments 

Was  the  gown  of  servitude. 

The  golden  chains  about  my  neck 

Were  chains  of  slavery. 

And  Wealth's  palatial  mansion 

Was  my  house  of  slavery. 

And  the  ring  that  Wealth  placed  on  my  hand 

Was  a  sign  of  slavery. 

Years  passed  on  and  Wealth  had  found 

A  younger,  fairer  face 

Not  marred  by  signs  of  bitter  tears, 

But  still  had  youthful  grace. 

Wealth  tired  of  me,  as  he  had  tired  of  those — 

Of  those  who  had  gone  before. 

He  tired  of  me  as  he  tired  of  them 

And  turned  me  from  his  door. 


[16] 


[A  H  i  s  T  A    and    other    Poems] 


All,  all  alone,  without  a  soul 

Who  cared  for  or  needed  me, 

I  walked  again  in  the  garden  cool 

And  sat  on  the  garden-seat. 

My  shoes  were  old,  my  gown  was  torn, 

And  I  laid  my  drooping  head 

Upon  the  back  of  the  garden-seat 

And  thought  that  Love  was  dead. 

The  sun-dial  showed  late  afternoon, 

Then  the  sun  did  hide  its  head, 

As  I  wept  in  anguish  and  bitterness 

For  Youth  forever  fled, 

For  Beauty,  forever  fled. 

Again  Love  stood  beside  me 
And  held  my  drooping  head; 
Not  once  did  he  e'er  chide  me 
But  gave  me  love  instead. 
And  there  in  that  old  garden 
Love  and  I  did  live  again, 
Did  work  and  watch  and  tend 
The  flowers  within  the  garden, 
And  there  by  its  sparkling  fountain 
We  made  our  home  again. 


[17] 


[A  B  I  s  T  A    and    other    Poems'] 


LONGING  FOR  LOVE 


,  ye  winds  of  early  morning, 
Come,  all  ye  winds  that  blow. 
On  your  wings  bear  ye  this  warning 

Wherever  ye  may  go. 
Look  ye  well  for  my  true-love, 

Look  well  on  land  and  sea. 
And  when  ye  find  my  own  true-love, 
Then  bring  him  back  to  me. 

The  bird  that  sings  in  yonder  bower 

Is  singing  to  its  mate. 
The  waning  moon  but  marks  the  hour 

Before  it  is  too  late. 
But  if  ye  find  that  love  I've  missed, 

That  I  must  ever  loveless  be, 
Blow  ye  then  wher'er  ye  list, 

But  come  not  back  to  me. 


[18] 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems] 


GATHERING  FLOWERS 

THREE  little  maids  on  a  summer  day 
Were  gathering  flowers  on  the  lea. 
Said  each  little  maid,  "I  will  pick  the  flower, 
The  flower  I  should  love  to  be." 

One  little  maid  with  a  wide,  white  brow. 
And  a  look  proud,  calm  and  cool 
Chose  a  tall  white  lily  in  the  oak  tree's  shade, 
By  the  side  of  a  quiet  pool. 

Another  with  gentle  downcast  look, 

And  a  modest  clinging  grace, 
Chose  the  violet  blue  in  a  hidden  spot, 

As  it  grew  in  its  sheltered  place. 

But  the  other  maid,  red  of  lip  and  cheek, 
With  eyes  cold,  large  and  bright, 

Chose  the  flaunting  poppy,  whose  petals  red 
Had  fallen  e'er  the  night. 


[Presented  by   the   pupils   of   Maude    B.    Fischer   at   the 
Easter  recital,   March  21,   1921.] 

[19] 


[ARISTA    and    other    Poems] 


SPIRIT  OF  LIGHT 

GIVE  me  the  gift  of  song, 
Spirit  of  Light. 
That  I  may  right  the  wrong, 

That   saddens   my   sight. 
Give  me  the  power  to  sing, 
As  flight  is  given  an  angel's  wing, 
Spirit  of  Light. 

Give  me  the  gift  of  song, 

Spirit  of  Light. 
The  sun  is  low,  the  day  is  long, 

Dark  is  the  night. 
Heavenly  voices  then  shall  sing, 
The  song  which  I  to  earth  shall  bring, 

Spirit  of  Light. 

Give  me  the  gift  of  song, 

Spirit  of  Light. 
Then  may  I  sing  to  the  toiling  throng 

Songs  in  their  night. 
And  as  they  hear  those  voices  sing, 
They'll  know  that  light  the  day  will  bring, 

O  Spirit  of  Light. 


[20] 


Gaylord  Bros. 

Makers 

Syracuse,  N.  Y. 
PAT.  JAN.  21,  1908 


YC   1449! 


469865 


^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


